


Meraad Astaarit, Meraad Itwasit (Asaara)

by Qactuar



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-22
Updated: 2018-11-08
Packaged: 2019-08-05 20:22:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16374422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Qactuar/pseuds/Qactuar
Summary: Asaara is the victim of circumstance. It has taken her years to accept and own her freedom, and now she is the figurehead of the fledgling Inquisition. Between hiding her own abilities and managing the growing Inquisition, will she be able to keep herself in check?





	1. Chapter 1

Asaara shifted uncomfortably. Ducking down so as not to catch her horns, she entered into the antechamber of the temple. The templars would not meet her eyes as she was led into the Temple of Sacred Ashes. The rest of the Valo-Kas were stationed below the temple and on the pilgrim's road, spread thin in an attempt to remove any suspicion that the Qun were present at the conclave. 

Her right hand, Shokrakar, was across the sea, leading the rest of the Valo-Kas as they completed their contract in Starkhaven. Asaara could only hope that this job was simpler than getting here was. Travelling through Kirkwall even years after the Qunari uprising was difficult, to say the least. 

Arriving at a set of grandiose doors, the knight-captain leading Asaara looked up at her.   
“Keep your mouth shut and your head down. We don't need trouble here.” He nodded and two grizzled templars pushed open the doors. 

It was surreal. The grand chamber of the temple was filled with mages and templars sitting quietly, waiting for the Divine to ascend to her throne. The room hummed with energy. Both groups were nervous and impatient, but seemed to have schooled themselves for the sake of the Divine.   
A small female cleric approached them.  
“Blessed are the Peacekeepers, Champions of the Just.” A chanter, it seemed. Asaara bowed in greeting. The templar nodded and looked up at Asaara.   
“She’s your guide from here. Good luck.” 

\--

A few hours later and Asaara was patrolling the corridors of the temple with another templar. They were sullen and silent, refusing to respond to any attempts at conversation. She sighed. The smell of dust and ancient stone itched at her nose. If they wanted to use the temple, a bit of cleaning wouldn’t have gone amiss. Asaara stopped for a moment as she readjusted her greatsword. The grumpy templar huffed.   
“You can’t just take breaks whenever you like.”  
“I can if I need to be ready to fight.”   
The templar rolled their eyes as much as Asaara could see due to the helm. “As if we’ll be fighting in here. With that greatsword of yours you’ll get stuck in the walls.”  
Asaara shrugged and continued on the patrol. Passing an intersection she paused.   
“You’re stopping again? Bloody heathens. No sense of duty…” The templar went on as Asaara took a deep sniff. Blood.   
“Can you smell that?”   
The templar stopped in their tirade. “What?”  
“Someone was injured, I can smell the blood.”   
“What do you mean you smell blood? You oxmen…”   
A shout had Asaara running down the right hallway towards a heavy wooden door. Finding it locked, she kicked it down and drew her greatsword.   
“Shit.” 

The Divine was surrounded by grey warden mages, all channelling their energy into her and the bindings holding her aloft. Behind her was what could only be described as an abomination. It was grotesque. Piercing red eyes and skin melted to the sharp points of metal and red crystal.  
The Divine screamed. “Please, run, warn them!”   
The abomination pointed towards Asaara, its voice distorting and crunching in her ears.   
“Kill the intruder.”   
The wardens rushed to attack, but Asaara was faster. Channelling her energy she released a lightning bolt towards the abomination. A shriek of anger burst from it as it fell back, flinging the orb it was holding towards her. Snatching it from the air, Asaara didn’t even land before being ripped into the fade. 

\--

Cold metal held her wrists tight. Groggy and swaying, Asaara looked up to see the bars of a cell. She brought her hands up to her face. No gag. Breathing a sigh of relief she shifted her weight. What had happened? The sound of angry voices snapped her to attention. Sitting up, she peered into the torchlit darkness.   
Ten minutes later, she was kneeling in the centre of the jail room surrounded by swords pointed at her head. A dark-haired woman stalked around her. Her face was sharp, high cheekbones screaming nobility. Her dark eyes pierced through Asaara.   


“Tell me what happened.” Her clipped accent laid heavy on Asaara’s shoulders. She didn’t dare meet her eyes. Looking down she could see a green crack splitting her left palm. Her voice was small.   
“I don’t know.”   
The woman lunged and grabbed her collar. “Liar! You are the only survivor!” Asaara tensed, anticipating the blow. Another woman put her hand on the dark-haired woman’s shoulder.   
“We need her, Cassandra.” This woman had flame red hair and wore a purple cowl, her smooth face schooled into a neutral expression. Had she been there the whole time?   
Cassandra released Asaara and stepped back. Her hand pulsed, sending a shock of pain through her shoulder. She groaned.   
“What is this thing on my hand?” Asaara looked to the women.   
Cassandra pursed her lips. “We do not know. It seems you do not, either.” She turned to the red-haired woman and nodded. Turning back towards Asaara, she unlocked the bindings around her wrists and replaced them with rope. Cassandra spoke calmly.   
“No matter what that thing is, it is spreading, and it will kill you.” She stood and pulled Asaara up. “Come with me.”   


Exiting the prison, Asaara was met with what the guards had whispered of - the Breach. Sucking in breath, Asaara could barely tear her eyes away. A vortex of sickly green energy consumed part of the sky. It crackled and spat out meteors of green flame.   
Cassandra noticed she had stopped. “That is the Breach. It is somehow tied to the mark on your hand. We are going to attempt to close the Breach with it.”   
“How?”  
“I do not know. All I can say is that I hope it works. Will you help us?”   
Asaara nodded. “Yes. I will do what I can.”  Cassandra gave her a weak smile and gestured for her to continue walking as she explained what had happened to the conclave. It had fucking exploded. Literally. And she had walked out of the fade and face-planted in the middle of the destroyed temple. 

They continued in silence. Arriving at a waypoint, Cassandra looked her over and pulled out a small knife and unbound her. She led her towards a small collection of weapons.   
“Here, take what you can use best.”   
Asaara raised an eyebrow.  
“There are demons everywhere, and I cannot protect you.”    
Asaara nodded and took a solid looking greatsword from the stack. It wasn’t her Asala, but it would do.   
Cassandra nodded and passed her a small glass vial, which Asaara tucked into her coat pocket. “As a last resort. Let’s go.”

After fighting through a small swath of demons, they finally arrived at the base of the temple where Cassandra’s companions were battling beneath a rift. Rushing in, Asaara caught the attention of the shades and sundered them one by one. The demons depleted, her marked hand was yanked towards the rift. A deep, aching pain tore from her heart into her hand and sputtered to life, connecting to the rift and sewing the veil closed. She grimaced and wrenched her hand away. The elven mage beside her looked at her placidly.  
Asaara rolled her shoulders and flexed her hand. “I guess it does work.”   
The mage nodded, his voice gentle in the aftermath. “Yes. I theorised that your mark may be able to influence these rifts, and perhaps close them.”   
The beardless dwarf who had been dancing about the edges of the fight approached with a grin on his face.   
“At least something’s working.” He extended a hand to Asaara. “Varric Tethras. Rogue, storyteller and unwanted tag-a-long.” He winked at Cassandra, who grunted in response. Varric shrugged as he and Cassandra started to bicker. The elven mage approached Asaara.   
“My name is Solas, if there are to be introductions.” He bowed his head. She returned the gesture.   
“Asaara. It's a pleasure to meet you.”   
Solas smiled slightly.   
“I am glad to see you still live. Managing the mark proved challenging but I kept you stable until I was certain you would wake.”   
Adaar nodded. “Then I am in your debt.”   
“It was no trouble.” He gestured towards Cassandra stomping away. “Let us continue, we have yet to reach the forward camp.” 

\--

Cursing under her breath in qunlat, Asaara reduced another shade to pieces of fade-forsaken material. The forward camp saw Leliana suffering a pompous fool in chantry robes sitting primly at a supply table turned desk.   
Sneering at Asaara he slammed his fist on the table.   
“I demand this thing be bound and shipped to Val Royeaux for trial. It is unbelievable that it should walk free after its crimes against the chantry.”   
Leliana shook her head. “We need her, Chancellor. She is the only one capable of closing the Breach.”   
He huffed. “Nonsense. Once a new divine is elected she will close the Breach.”  
Cassandra seethed.  We must take action now or watch the sky be consumed by the Breach. Are we supposed to wait while the world is swallowed by the Breach?”   
The Chancellor rolled his eyes. “And what power do you have here? A brutish thug and a slippery ex-bard. What do you intend to do about it?   
Leliana narrowed her gaze. “More than you do, Chancellor. We serve the Divine, and therefore all of the faithful.”   
The chancellor glowered and opened his mouth once more. “Not anymore. The Divine is dead–”  
Cassandra lost her temper.   
“We are going to charge the temple and close the breach whether you like it or not, Chancellor. Leliana, bring everyone from the valley.” ignoring the Chancellor, Cassandra stalked past the him, dragging Asaara with her. 

\--

Asaara had never seen so many demons. Trudging through ichor stained snow, she applied more vitaar to her face, feeling the dried mixture starting to flake and fall off as she sweated on the slushy battlefield. Her silver hair stuck to her forehead, her braid having slowly loosened as the battles continued. 

They had made good progress, but according to Cassandra they had yet to find the commander. As they moved further up the mountain, the clamour of weapons and demonic shrieks made the party pick up the pace. 

A small force of chantry soldiers fought valiantly against an onslaught of demons pouring from a rift. One man in particular was cutting a swath through the oncoming demons. Clad in an auburn fur coat and heavy armour, he bashed and sliced through the demons harder and faster every time he saw one of his men fall. Launching into the fray, Asaara cleaved through a small group of demons attacking a lone soldier. Cassandra followed, and the two of them with Solas and Varric managed to cut down the demons for long enough for Asaara to close the rift. 

The pain of connecting the to the rifts was nigh unbearable. Asaara ground her teeth as the mark burned in her veins. Despite being accustomed using magic, the energy of the mark was alien, seemingly unravelling the weave of her body. Solas approached her as she massaged her wrist.  She flinched as he reached for the mark, his hands cold as they touched her skin. Pulsing a barrier into her arm, he lowered his voice to a whisper.   
“It should stay, provided you renew it.”   
Asaara froze. Solas locked eyes with her.   
“We all have secrets we need to keep.” 

\-- 

After Asaara was introduced to Commander Cullen, the party quickly moved on towards the ruined temple. The commander barely spoke to Asaara, instead helping the wounded and barking orders to keep the small forces from truly taking in their surroundings. Crooked limbs of dark stone reached into the angry sky, the temple torn asunder and reconstructed into the broken body of the chantry. Within the grasping hands of stone, veins of red lyrium pulsed, singing. 

Asaara could barely think about Solas’ words upon seeing the wreckage surrounding her. It was hell. Twisted bodies of the faithful still burning, frozen in agony. The voice of the lyrium set her teeth on edge. It was so deeply wrong, so discordant to her. She could see Solas starting to purse his lips as they passed more and more of it. Varric glared at each vein as they passed, muttering under his breath. 

Passing into the temple proper, or what remained of it, an enormous rift sputtered and whined, bursting at the seams. Cassandra turned to Asaara.   
“This is the one we must close to make the Breach stable, according to master Solas.”  
Solas looked to Asaara. “Indeed. It is the first, and therefore may hold the key to sealing the Breach.”   
She had no other choice.   
“Let's go.” 

Walking around to the lowest level of the temple where the explosion began, the fade started to ripple. Asaara could see the shadow of a monstrous creature looming over the late Divine, who was screaming for help. Cassandra gasped as Asaara appeared in the strange apparition. The damaged fade twisted and swept away the mirage. Cassandra grabbed Asaara’s shoulder, barely keeping her voice from breaking.  
“Most Holy called out to you. She called for help and you came.”   
Asaara shook her head. “I don’t remember any of that. I’m sorry.”  
Cassandra cleared her throat and looked to the rift. “Yes. I am sorry. Let us continue.” 

Asaara stared at the rift. They had arrived at the bottom of the ruined temple, and now all that remained was for her to reopen it. Solas stood beside her, silent. Raising her hand, she reached for the weave of the rift. Tearing it apart made her want to vomit, feeling as if she had torn out stitches. Falling to her knees dazed, Asaara looked up to see an monstrous demon appear from the now open rift. Solas expanded the rift from inside her arm to encompass her whole body just before the demon swept her aside. Hitting the ground, Asaara came to her senses. Pulling herself to her feet, she drew her greatsword and charged in. 


	2. Chapter 2

Solas paced. The Herald had not woken, and keeping her magic a secret whilst others attended her was becoming troublesome. A cold breeze from the shutters passed over him as he studied the mark. In natural light and candlelight it seemed to be bright green, but in veilfire, it acted like a kaleidoscope, highlighting slivers and small seams of the fade that had been mended. Asaara stirred as he dripped the last of his magebane into her mouth. It would suppress any buildup of magic from the mark and her own unconscious manifestation. Tucking the vial back into his robes and dousing the veilfire he had placed by her bedside, he called the apothecary back in. It would have to do. Nodding to Adan, he exited into the cold night air. 

A day or so later, it seemed that the “Herald”, as they were calling her, had awoken. A contingent of soldiers and pilgrims stood outside her hut, lying in wait to see Asaara. Standing on the outskirts of the crowd, he watched as the silver-haired qunari woman opened the cottage door, saw the people saluting, and closed the door immediately. Varric appeared beside him.   
“If I had woken up after that and this many people saluting me, I’d hide too.”   
Solas watched the confused crowd disperse.  
“Perhaps we should go get the Seeker.”   
Varric grinned. “Bags not.” 

\-- 

Asaara peered out the shutters of the cottage. What the hell was going on? A knock on the door made her jump.   
“It is Seeker Cassandra. Herald, are you alright?”   
_ Herald? _ Where did that come from?   
Asaara opened the door and then sat down on the bed as Cassandra grabbed a chair.   
“Leliana told me you did not respond well to the people outside your cottage.”   
Asaara scratched her horns. “I don't understand. I'm just a woman who was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”   
“They were saluting you, for what you did at the temple. You are a hero. You are the Herald of Andraste.”  
“The Herald of  _ Andraste?”   
_ “There were rumours that people saw a woman standing behind you when you fell out of the fade. They say it was Andraste who delivered you, that she gave you the mark.”  
Asaara looked at her incredulously. “But I'm.. I'm nowhere even near the Chantry's ideals. Do they think I'm the messiah?”   
Cassandra chuckled. “The Chantry? No, but the people believe you were sent by Andraste, and what that truly means, I do not know.”  
Asaara nodded solemnly. “And what do  __ you  think of all this?”   
Cassandra locked eyes with her, but her tone was gentle and softly reverent.   
“I believe that you were sent to us. A gift, where one was desperately needed.”  
  
“I intend to begin something that has not been so for over a thousand years. History may see me as a madwoman and a heretic. Whether that will be true is up to us.”   
Asaara took a deep breath. “And what is this something?”   
Cassandra stood. “The Inquisition.”   
Asaara nodded slowly. “Okay. Maybe they will think you're nuts later on.”   
Cassandra's eyebrows shot up. “You know about it?”   
Asaara sighed. “It may surprise you to learn that I'm not a filthy heathen with no education to speak of.”   
Cassandra flushed. “I’m sorry. We know very little of your history.”   
“We?”   
“Leliana and I. And Commander Cullen.”   
Asaara shook her head. “If you’re going to ask questions, ask the source itself.”   
Cassandra adjusted her armour. “Regardless, we need to go to the Chantry before Leliana throttles the Chancellor.”  
Asaara chuckled. “I’d like to see that.”

\--

Hectic was the perfect word to describe the next week in Haven. Ambassador Montilyet arrived, and subtly asked Asaara just about every question imaginable over dinner and during discussions with Cassandra and Leliana. Commander Cullen invited Asaara to join him in drilling troops, and she spent many mornings terrifying Inquisition soldiers with her ferocity and blood red vitaar. 

After struggling to sleep the night before, Asaara found herself wandering in the early morning light. The area around Haven was picturesque, and the crunching of snow under her feet was perfect in the dawn light. The pine trees rustled as she walked through, the pristine forest disturbed by her meandering. Without noticing, she had already cut multiple samples of elfroot. Old habits die hard, I guess. She listened carefully after stopping for a moment. Nothing but wind and trees. It was almost like being back on the Storm Coast. Just less wind, rain, and angry locals. And bears.  _ Vashedan _ bears. Humming as she continued to pick elfroot, Asaara remembered the words to a lullaby the Tamassrans sung for them. 

_ Hissera esaam aqun,  
_ _ Meraad astaarit, meraad itwasit  
_ __ Kost kadan itwasaam asit tal-eb

Stopping to sit on a boulder, she sang quietly to herself as she counted the elfroot. Her voice scattered across the snow-covered trees and into the brightening sky. A slight rustling notified her of someone approaching. Asaara immediately recognised the bald head of Solas emerging from the trees.  
“I apologise if I disturbed you. I heard someone singing whilst I was walking and was curious.”  
She shrugged, watching him cautiously. “It’s fine, Solas.”  
He looked over the elfroot she had gathered.  
“It seems you have a penchant for herbs.”  
Asaara stiffened. “Yes.”  
Solas stepped back. “I am sorry if I frightened you. It was not my intention.”  
Asaara began gathering the elfroot. “Just now? I heard you coming.”  
“I meant during the journey to the temple.”  
Asaara stood and tucked the elfroot into her coat silently. Solas walked closer to her, casting a quick sound barrier around them. “Let me explain.”  
“You are a mage. The scars are faint now, but they still linger. If I am correct, you are a former Saarebas.”  
Asaara opened her mouth to speak but Solas continued. “I discovered your magic and kept it hidden after you emerged from the rift while I was monitoring the mark.”  
Asaara sighed in resignation. “Thank you.”   
Solas shook his head. “It is of no consequence. I am an apostate, as they say. I am someone apart from the maddening crowd of rebel mages. I am neither dalish nor from an alienage. You are the same.”  
She looked Solas in the eye.  
“Then you understand.”   
“Indeed I do. Though I cannot imagine being captured and returned to the Qun.”  
The sound of distant crunching snow silenced them both. Dropping the barrier, Solas nodded slightly.   
“It seems I caught you at an inopportune time. I apologise.”   
Asaara shook her head. “No, please. It would be best to go back.”   
Solas offered her his arm. “Shall we?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hissera esaam aqun: Hope exists in balance  
> Meraad astarit, meraad itwasit: the tide rises, the tide falls  
> Kost kadan itwasaam asit tal-eb: Peace, heart, we all fall - it is to be


	3. Chapter 3

The Hinterlands only increased the feeling that things would not be going back to normal any time soon. The mage-templar war had escalated and refugees were flooding Redcliffe and the surrounding area. Having been given a new greatsword and new armour, Asaara vaguely spoiled. She left a note for Leliana to search the temple for her Asala. These new swords were starting to give her blisters. They tromped across the countryside, helping refugees and removing templar and mage threats where possible. 

After a rather gruelling day of closing rifts, Asaara, Solas, Cassandra and Varric set up camp near a small waterfall. The sun was going down, setting the sky alight in a strange contrast of warm pink against the sickly green of the breach. Within her tent, Asaara shucked off her armour, pulling on her woolen dress. Picking up her bag of salves, she exited the tent. Cassandra sat before the fire, staring at a pot of stew that Solas was stirring. Varric sat across from her, reading a letter intently. Moving past them she went towards the small pool at the foot of the waterfall. Sitting at the edge of the water, she took a small cloth and began to scrub away her fading vitaar, rinsing the cloth in the water. She hummed softly as she worked, slowly revealing her skin to the fading sunlight. Once she was done, she applied a thin elfroot salve to stop her skin from drying out. It was a ritual she had missed. Working with the Valo-Kas meant that they were constantly refreshing and removing vitaar. Gathering herbs, applying vitaar to one another before a job... A lonely sigh escaped her. Packing her salves away she returned to the fire. 

“Gotta admit Seeker, it’s not everyday you fight mages and templars that are both trying to kill you.” Varric said.  
Cassandra grunted in response.   
“But then, that’s what it was like in Kirkwall at the end.”   
Cassandra stood, serving herself a bowl of stew. “I will be in my tent if you need me.”  
Varric served himself a bowl and sat back down. Tasting it, he looked at Solas in surprise.   
“What did you put in this, Chuckles? It’s delicious!”   
Solas smiled wryly. “Wouldn’t you like to know.” He continued eating.  
Varric continued to eat enthusiastically.   
Asaara smiled and served herself. It was delicious. It reminded her of something, but she couldn’t put her finger on it.   
Solas tapped his nose as he preempted her question. “It wouldn’t be as good if I told you what was in it.” 

After dinner had been cleared away, Asaara found herself lying awake in her tent. Her mind wouldn’t settle, wondering if the Valo-Kas had finished their contract overseas, or if her small contingent had survived the conclave. No one had told her of any qunari casualties, and there had been no word from Starkhaven. Perhaps a letter from them waited at Haven, Shokrakar’s blocky handwriting demanding to know what was happening. 

Scratching her horns, Asaara ducked as she exited her tent. The fire had burned down, the soft glow of the embers making a small halo of warmth. Her silver hair shone in the moonlight as she unwound her braid. Shaking her long hair out, the gentle breeze was incredibly pleasant. Walking up to the lake above the waterfall, Asaara removed her soft boots and put her feet in the cold water. Stepping back onto the bank, she stepped out of her slip and folded it up and placed it carefully away from the water with her boots. 

It was bliss. Being fully submerged in the lake, unconcerned about the Inquisition for just a moment. She traced the stars as she floated aimlessly. Judex, peraquialus, draconis. She tried to remember the names in qunlat. A gentle barrier kept the cold at bay. As it faded, she swam to the shore and reluctantly got out of the water. A gentle fire rune placed in her palm dried her off. Clothed, she crept back down to the campsite and into her tent and fell into her bedroll with a contented sigh.


	4. Chapter 4

The relief of arriving back at Haven a few weeks later successful was short lived. Leliana had already arranged a meeting with clerics in Val Royeaux, and within a few days they were on the road again. Travelling was nothing new to Asaara, but the pace Cassandra kept was starting to wear on her. The enormous forder that Dennet had gifted Asaara was a welcome change. Many horses that she had ridden in the last decade were unable to take her weight, and had become light pack horses for her gear. The chestnut mare was more than comfortable with Asaara, and as such they had begun to form a bond as the small Inquisition contingent travelled north.

As they neared the coast, Asaara could taste the salt in the air. Her shoulders began to tense, and a nasty headache formed between her eyes. The dock from which they were to travel to Val Royeaux was crowded and cacophonous. The screech of gulls and incessant sloshing against the dock was enough to make her nauseous. Solas sidled up beside her as they waited to board their ship.   
“You are not fond of the sea?”  
Asaara took a swig of water from her skin.   
“Is it that obvious?”   
Solas shrugged. “It was merely an observation. Surely you must have sailed during your work with the Valo-Kas?”  
Asaara rubbed her forehead. “We did. Regularly. I still hate it though.”  
Solas nodded his assent and boarded the ship. Staring at the gangplank, Asaara could feel her palms prickling. It would be fine. It would definitely be fine. Cassandra tapped her foot impatiently.   
“We need to leave, Herald.”   
Gathering her courage, Asaara dashed up the gangplank and immediately went below deck. So much for courage. The concerned face of Cassandra peered through the door.   
“Are you alright, Herald?”   
Asaara nodded quickly.   
Cassandra frowned. “If you say so.”   
She closed the door and Asaara pushed herself up against a flat wall. This was going to be a long trip.

\--

Val Royeaux was not as Asaara had expected it. After her incredibly draining time at sea during which nothing happened, she kept reminding herself, it was both a blessing and a curse to be on dry land. A blessing as she was not surrounded by water, a curse in that she had to go into Val Royeaux and be surrounded by stuck-up Orlesians doing their best to look down their noses at her. A difficult task, but some still succeeded.

Josephine had sent along a “stylist” to make Asaara look like she was actually the Herald of Andraste. The poor woman had no idea how to style hair around a qunari’s horns, and Asaara ended up braiding her hair herself. The clothes were another matter. Her armour was polished to a blinding sheen, and her greatsword from the Hinterlands was replaced with a shiny new one. She massaged her blistered palms. Still not her Asala.

One of Leliana’s scouts approached as they entered the city. She bowed to the group.   
“Herald, Commander Pentaghast. The Revered Mother waits for you at the pavilion, but she is surrounded by many Templars.”  
Cassandra looked surprised. “Templars?”  
The scout nodded. “Yes, I don’t know why they are here.”   
Cassandra thanked her. “We should go quickly.”

Walking into the Summer Bazaar was like watching a farce. The ladies fainted, the men bristled, and the commonfolk kept working. Ducking her head down, Asaara did her best not to stare at the black silks draped across the buildings and the extravagant mourning clothing. Cassandra led them through the crowds before they began to hear the sound of a commotion towards the Bazaar’s pavilion. A small raised platform, it was primarily used for announcements and small performances. However, a wiry Revered Mother and her attendants stood above the crowd, surrounded by templars.

As they approached, Asaara could only catch parts of the Revered Mother’s speech. Thankfully, she was speaking common. Stepping into the crowd, it parted abruptly, leaving Asaara and her entourage completely exposed. The Revered Mother looked down upon them, her thick accent oozing with scorn.  
“And so the pretender has arrived. The supposed Herald of Andraste, claiming to rise where our beloved Divine fell!”  
Cassandra stepped forward in Asaara’s defense, but she stepped forward and bowed. This was going to take some finesse.  
“Revered Mother, we have come to discuss the Breach and its dangers to the people. The Inquisition seeks only to restore order.” She did her best to make her voice clear and words succinct.   
Cassandra nodded. “It is true, the Inquisition wishes to restore order and seal the Breach!”  
The Revered Mother scoffed and sneered at Asaara. “Do not pretend to be civilised, heathen.”   
Asaara stood her ground.   
She called over the crowd. “These claims are false. The Inquisition is responsible for the Divine’s death!”   
Cassandra bristled.   
“But do not fear, good people of Val Royeaux, for the Templars have returned to the chantry! They will face this Inquisition and keep you safe!”   
She smirked as an older man in black plate stepped onto the pavilion and stepped past the Revered Mother. A collective gasp came from the crowd as younger man following him slammed his fist into the Revered Mother’s stomach, winding her. She fell to her knees.   
Asaara could feel her blood boiling, the crowd behind her shouting angrily.  
The man’s voice boomed over the angry crowd. “This woman’s claim to authority is an insult, as is that of the Inquisition.”   
Cassandra shouted over the crowd. “Lord Seeker Lucius! It is imperative that we speak -”  
Without looking at Cassandra, he sneered. “Do not speak, heretic. You should be ashamed. Raising a false prophet, creating a heretical order. You shall not address me.”   
Cassandra gaped.   
The Lord Seeker barked over the crowd. “The Templars failed no one when they left the Chantry to purge the mages. You are the ones who have failed. Those who would leash our righteous swords with doubt and fear. If you came to appeal to the Chantry, you are too late. The only true authority is _mine._ ”  
Asaara pushed past furious crowd. “We need an alliance to seal the Breach!”   
The Lord Seeker rolled his eyes. “The Breach is indeed a threat. But you certainly have no power to do anything about it.” He looked over the crowd. “Val Royeaux is not worthy of our protection. Templars, move out!”

The crowd froze as the Templar forces present moved out of the Bazaar. As soon as the Lord Seeker had stepped off the pavilion, Adaar rushed forward to help the Revered Mother, whose attendants were floundering in shock. Climbing onto the pavillion, she shooed the attendants away from her and turned her on her side.   
“Revered Mother, can you breathe?”   
She nodded. Asaara sighed in relief. Cassandra and Varric began clearing away the crowd.   
“My name is Asaara. I do not claim to be holy, but I understand injustice when I see it.” She bowed her head. “It is a pleasure to meet you.”   
The surrounding clerics glared at her as the crowd finally dispersed, whispering quickly to one another in orlesian. Asaara helped her sit up.   
Cassandra stepped up onto the pavilion and bowed to the Revered Mother.   
“Greetings, Revered Mother Hevara.”  
The Revered Mother looked at her coldly, slowly regaining her breath. “The Inquisition is not welcome here.”   
Cassandra frowned, but said nothing. Asaara bit her lip. Leliana would NOT be happy. She took a deep breath.   
“Will no one hear our appeal?”   
The Revered Mother raised an eyebrow. “I’m afraid that the grand clerics are cloistered in the Grand Consensus.”   
“Then we will be unable to discuss the Breach until they elect a new Divine?”  
Revered Mother Hevara’s eyes widened slightly in surprise. Obviously she wasn’t familiar with qunari being knowledgeable about the Chantry.   
“Indeed.”  
Asaara bowed. “Then we will take our leave. Cassandra?”

Cassandra’s mouth remained in a thin line until they had left the pavilion. Seeing her starting to twitch, Asaara pulled her into a small, somewhat empty café and after some terrified looks from the servers, ordered some tea. Varric sat making notes at the table whilst Solas lost himself in thought. Cassandra sat down abruptly, causing the chair to shunt backwards loudly. Before she could speak, a small elven woman brought around a teapot and four teacups. Solas frowned at the teapot and looked at the elven waitress.   
“May I have some water?” he asked.  
The waitress looked at the motley group and after a moment of indecision, looked to Cassandra for assurance. Her eyebrows furrowed further.  
“Of course he may have some water.”   
The waitress nodded, barely looking at Asaara or Varric before scurrying away. Solas sighed.   
“I guess it was a better reception than yours, Asaara.”  
She shrugged. “It isn’t my first time in Orlais.”   
She turned to Cassandra and placed her hand gently on her shoulder.   
“Cassandra, I understand you are familiar with the Lord Seeker.”   
Cassandra clenched her fist. “Has he gone mad?!” she hissed. “His men punching a Revered Mother in front of the summer bazaar? In front of the faithful?!” She attempted to stand, but Asaara held her in her seat. “The Templars are now out of our reach..” despondency crept into her voice.   
Asaara tried to reassure her. “We don’t know that yet. Let’s return to Haven, perhaps some good news will greet us on the way.”   
Cassandra nodded and sipped her tea. Asaara took her teacup in her hand, her pinky finger barely fitting through the handle. What the hell was she doing? Trying to play the Game with masters in a city full of backstabbing liars? Acting as a voice of reason? At least her childhood education had been worth something.

Varric noticed her staring into her teacup intensely.   
“If you stare any harder Silver, it’ll shatter.”   
Asaara put the teacup down. “Silver?”   
Varric shrugged. “It’s a thing I do.” He pointed to Cassandra and Solas. “Seeker and Chuckles.”   
Asaara giggled. “Chuckles?!”   
Solas ignored them both.

Ten minutes of silence later, the tea was gone. Asaara walked over and paid the bill. As they exited, an arrow landed between the cobblestones at Asaara’s feet. Plucking it out of the stonework, she inspected it. A small piece of parchment was rolled around the shaft and was tied on with a red string. Untying it, Asaara read the message.

_People say you're special. I want to help, and I can bring everyone._ _  
_ _There's a baddie in Val Royeaux. I hear he wants to hurt you. Have a search for the red things in the market, the docks, and 'round the cafe, and maybe you'll meet him first. Bring swords.  
_ _  
_ _Friends of Red Jenny_


	5. Chapter 5

The manor was ostentatious. Gold trim on every corner and lush greenery in every window. This was the place. Sneaking in through a gate, Asaara walked into the courtyard. The soldiers hadn’t noticed her yet. Drawing her greatsword that she’d reclaimed from the stylist, she charged into the fray. 

Flicking the blood from her sword, Asaara looked up to see a man in what looked to be pajamas. She knew this was Orlesian fashion, but it still looked like a man in his nightwear. He laughed like a donkey.   
“Ah, the Inquisition. It must have been expensive to have found me so quickly.” He stood like he’d just won a prize.  
A young elven woman jumped out from behind Asaara. “Just say what!”   
He scoffed. “What–”   
The woman laughed as he gurgled and fell onto his fancy pavers with an arrow in his throat. Her eyes grew wide as she turned around. “Whoar.” Looking Asara up and down, she did a double take. “Tama?!”   
The young elven woman jumped onto Asaara and hugged her tightly. Asaara laughed and lifted her up. “It’s so good to see you, Sera.”   
Putting her gently on the ground they grinned at each other. Sera looked well. Dressed in a patchy red tunic and plaidweave leggings, her fashion sense had clearly not improved. Still hated haircuts, as her fringe sitting above her eyes was less than symmetrical.   
“I never thought it’d be you!” Sera snorted.  
“Neither did I!” Asaara giggled.   
Cassandra, Solas and Varric were incredibly confused.   
“You two… know each other?” no Cassandra asked.   
Sera nodded. “You bet your breeches. Breeches… Oh fuck!”   
Turning around, a small contingent of pants-less soldiers bravely holding their weapons charged at them. Sera snorted and nocked an arrow.  
“No breeches!” 

\--

Sera was still giggling about breeches long after they’d settled for the night outside Val Royeaux. She and Asaara had been joined at the hip since meeting at the manor. Cassandra and Varric sat across from them, whispering to each other around the fire.   
“How do you think they met?” Cassandra asked.  
“I don’t know, Seeker, why don’t you ask?”   
She crossed her arms.  “You know I’m not good at that sort of thing.”   
“Do you want me to go?”   
She paused. “No, let’s leave them be.”   
Varric shrugged. “If you say so, Seeker.” 

Sera sat cross legged beside Asaara as she unbraided her hair. Sera watched her unweave the tight plait intensely, her bright green eyes following Asaara's hands, face caught in a gentle smile.   
“I forgot you always did that. You’d send the kids to bed, then unbraid your hair.”   
“But you’d never stay. Always traipsing off into the alleys at night.” Asaara said thoughtfully.   
“You lived in the alienage. I hate that elfy stuff.”   
Asaara finished and began to brush her hair through with her fingers.   
“Where else could I have gone?” She asked.  
Sera frowned. “Don’t look at me. I’m not the one who disappeared after the blight.”   
Asaara sighed deeply. “It wasn’t safe for me anymore.”   
Sera glared. “Pfft. It wasn’t safe for anyone!”   
Asaara took Sera’s hand. “You don’t remember, do you?”   
Sera swallowed. “I don’t want to.”  
The silence ate at them both.  
“Do you still have the box?” Asaara asked.  
Sera nodded slightly. “Yeah.”  
Asaara smiled. “I'm glad.” She stood, silver hair cascading over her back.   
Sera spoke. “You're going to get the world back to normal, yeah?”  
Asaara nodded and looked at Sera gravely, pointing to the mark. “I have no choice in the matter. Besides, it must be done. _Asit_ _tal-eb_. It is to be.”   
Sera scrunched up her face. “None of that.”   
Asaara smiled sadly. “Old habits die hard, Kadan.”

\-- 

The journey back to Haven was dotted with strange occurrences. Asaara was invited to meet the former court enchanter, who promptly joined the Inquisition. The strangest thing was encountering Grand Enchanter Fiona in Val Royeaux just as they left. She'd offered an alliance with the rebel mages. However, the rebel mages were in Redcliffe, almost halfway across the continent. Cassandra didn't trust her, and Asaara began to wonder if she was right. 

Weirdness aside, reuniting with Sera had made their unsuccessful trip to Val Royeaux worth it. She barely left Asaara's side, showing off how good she had gotten with a bow. She had always been incredibly talented. After another uncomfortable journey by sea, they received word of a mercenary company interested in joining the Inquisition currently working on the Sword Coast. Having landed at Highever, they chose to investigate. 

\-- 

The Sword Coast could be described as picturesque if not for the incessant rain, caves full of giant spiders and damp forests with far too many bears. Asaara could feel the rain slicking her hair down and starting to melt the outer layer of her vitaar. Scout Harding, a rather plucky young dwarf woman with warm red hair, reported that the mercenary company wasn't the only area of interest in the Storm Coast. Apparently a group of scouts had gone missing, and the last report received mentioned some signs of wardens - darkspawn corpses and a few encoded letters. Thanking Scout Harding, Asaara began to head towards the shore. 

The sound of fighting caught her attention as they exited the treeline. Looking across the rocky shore she could see why. A large qunari man with enormous, bull-like horns and his eclectic companions were fighting a group of soldiers in wicked looking armour. Asaara recognised them. Tevinter soldiers. As they got closer, the qunari man began to shout orders in common just as he sundered three of the soldiers in one fell swoop. Seeing the need to keep back, Asaara drew her greatsword and took a defensive position. Calling for Solas to support, she protected him from stray arrows as he cast barriers over the qunari and his comrades. 

The fight won, the qunari man ordered his men to stand down as Asaara and the others approached.. His deep voice resonated in Asaara's bones.   
“You’re the Herald, eh? God, the Chantry must  _ love _ you!” He laughed heartily, shaking his head.  
She laughed along and offered her hand.  
“I'm Asaara, it's a pleasure to meet you.”   
“The Iron Bull.” He shook her hand firmly and smiled. “At least I don’t have to explain that one to you.” He pointed to his horns.   
Standing half a head taller than Asaara, she had to look up slightly to meet Bull's gaze.   
An eyepatch covered his left eye, deep scarring evident underneath. His other eye was a verdant green, bright against his light grey skin. Burly was the most accurate term for how he was built. He looked like a brute, but his gaze bored into her, flitting over her face and body, analysing. Asaara could tell something was off.   
“So you heard about the Chargers?”   
His voice shook Asaara out of her thoughts.   
“We got a report on our way back from Val Royeaux.” She nodded.   
He smiled. “Well, we’re expensive, but we’re worth it.”   
Asaara glanced at the corpses being piled up for burning. “Evidently.”   
Bull laughed, but his demeanour turned cold. “Oh, and there’s one other thing you might find useful.”   
Bull locked eyes with her. “I’m Ben-Hassrath. I've got access to reports from all across Orlais. Might help get a leg up over there.” He paused, taking in Asaara's face. It took all her willpower to crush the urge to run as he spoke.   
“I'll be honest. The Ben-Hassrath want me in the Inquisition.”   
Asaara held his gaze, fear creeping inside her, clawing it’s way up her back.   
“You get reports, I send reports, with the benefit that you know I'm a spy.” He added.   
Clearing her throat, Asaara nodded sternly and shook his hand.   
“Welcome to the Inquisition.” 

\-- 

Back at camp, Asaara retreated to her tent she shared with Sera as Bull and the Chargers settled in. Memories flooded her mind, barely feeling the cot beneath her as the fear finally took over her body. Hot tears began to stream down her face. She had been safe so far, she had evaded the qun for more than a decade. And now it stood before her, waves crashing at the shore. The sea unchanging. She curled into herself and tugged at her horns, feeling the cold and ridged curves of them hard under her fingers. It had been two or three years since she let them grow back.. After filing them down for so long, it was still strange having them back, but Shokrakar encouraged her to let them grow back, let herself be free. 

Sera entered the tent.   
“Oh, Tama, I thought you were asleep?”   
Asaara shook her head and sat up, grabbing her bag of salves from under the bed.   
“Must've dozed off. Has the sun set?”  
Sera nodded, looking at her closely. “Yeah, think everyone has gone to bed. You know, your vita-whatsit runs when you cry.”   
Asaara held up the bag. “I'll be back soon.”   
Sera shook her head and climbed into her cot, watching as Asaara leave the tent. 

Outside, the sky was surprisingly clear. A few stars peered out between the clouds which had reduced their constant downpour to a patchy drizzle. Walking out of the camp, Asaara looked for the stream she used to harvest spindleweed from. Finding it easily enough in the dark, she sat at the water’s edge and began removing her vitaar. The familiar sense of peace provided by the forest settling atop her roiling mind, like a duck floating on the water, feet frantically paddling beneath the surface. 

She missed the feeling of cold metal against her skin, the nostalgia deeply rooted in her chest. She continued to scrub the white vitaar from her face, feeling the small scars from when her lips were sewn together. 

The sound of something moving through the trees caught her attention. A deep voice rumbled from a few meters back.  
“Crap branches getting in my horns”   
Asaara pulled out her mortar and pestle, digging out her herbs for making a new vitaar. She didn't look up as Iron Bull emerged from the trees.   
“You're a hard woman to follow.”   
Asaara nodded. There was no point in hiding anything from him. “I used to live in this forest.”   
Bull sat down beside her. “I can tell.”   
Asaara took out some dried witherstalk and began to grind it down.   
“Can I help you, Bull?” She didn't look up from the mortar held in her lap.   
“You must have some complex feelings about me being Ben-Hassrath.”  
No shit, she thought. “And if I do?”   
“I'm not going to report you.”   
“For being vashoth?”   
Bull lowered his voice. “No, for being tal-vashoth saarebas.”   
Asaara sighed. “and if I am?”  
Bull crossed his legs. “I can't do anything about tal-vashoth or saarebas. I'm not an Avaraad. And from what I can see, you're not the sort of tal-vashoth I'd want to kill.” 

Looking at Bull, she could see the streets of Seheron reflected in his eyes.  _ Dust under her feet, her chains joining the cacophony of children screaming and running as tal-vashoth murder their friends and Tama. Her chains released, she lets the lightning crackle between her fingers before lighting up the tal-vashoth. Bastards won't get any more of her kids.  _

Bull cleared his throat.   
Asaara looked at her hands, heavily scarred and stained from years of making poultices. Her voice was resolute. “I would  _ never _ be that kind of Tal-vashoth”  
Bull nodded. “Where were you stationed?”   
She continued her work. “Seheron.”   
He let out a low whistle. “Then we both saw the same shit.”   
They were silent for a while. 

Asaara gestured to her bag. “I noticed you weren't wearing any vitaar earlier.”   
Bull opened the bag gently. He clicked his tongue. “You've got an impressive collection.” He inspected some of the small wooden containers. “You make all of these?”  
Asaara nodded and grabbed some dried spindleweed, grinding it into the witherstalk.   
“Mhmm. I was the person in charge of vitaar in the Valo-Kas, and my kith long before that.”   
Bull laughed, surprising her.   
“Hell yeah! Horn balm!”   
He pulled it out of the bag and unscrewed the wooden container.   
“I missed this stuff so much. Can't get it in Orlais.” He took a deep sniff of it and sighed.   
Asaara smiled softly. “Feel free to use it”   
Bull grinned at her and dipped his fingers in the opaque mixture, spreading it over the base of his horns, taking his time getting into the nooks and crannies. He was like a child being given their first tub of the stuff.   
He sighed deeply in satisfaction and rinsed his hands in the stream, wiping them on his pants absentmindedly.   
“You can have that, if you'd like.”   
Bull shook his head. “I couldn't.” He moved to put it back in the bag. Asaara grabbed his hand before he could put it away. He held her gaze.   
“I insist.” Asaara took his other hand and folded it over the smooth wood with a bittersweet smile. Her dark eyes met his.  
“Consider it a small thank you.”   
Bull nodded and slipped his hands out of hers and put the balm in his pocket, clearing his throat. “We should go back. They'll think we're sharing intel.” He stood, stretching.   
Asaara nodded. “You go first, I'll finish up here.”   
“See you later, boss.”

**Author's Note:**

> Please tell me if there are any spelling or editing errors that you notice. I always appreciate feedback.


End file.
